


Coronation

by HyborianQueen



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Evil Jareth, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 06:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyborianQueen/pseuds/HyborianQueen
Summary: Through tears and tribulations is a Queen made.  Companion story to Toby’s Wish.  Jareth/Sarah pairing.  Evil Jareth.





	Coronation

PART 1

A whirlwind of sparkling light envelops the strange pair of human and immortal beings, whipping Sarah’s long brown hair in every direction and threatening to suck the breath from her. An uncomfortable feeling of vertigo causes her to gasp and her legs to buckle as she feels herself being pitched forward in time and space. She nearly collapses, but there is a strong steel band around her waist that keeps her from falling. She desperately clings to it, even as she realizes it is swathed in black leather and wears a matching glove. At the moment, it is the only thing keeping her from pulling apart: she is certain of it. Brilliant light streams past her on both sides, adding to her wooziness until finally she clenches her eyes shut in a feeble attempt to still her spinning mind. It feels like an eternity forced into a span of seconds before the turbulence ends and she can regain her traction in reality.  
When Sarah opens her eyes, she’s no longer in her apartment or even in her own world for that matter. She is disoriented from their journey (if she can call what they just did traveling) and feels slightly nauseated from the experience. She leans back against her host to steady herself. She drags in a few deep breaths to help alleviate her queasiness.   
While she is trying to recover her bearings, a sinewy arm slips across the front of her shoulders followed by a hot breath in her ear whispering:   
“Welcome home.”  
Just like that, Sarah snaps out of her daze. Twisting in his arms, she rounds on the Goblin King. Positioning her hands on his chest, she gives him a tremendous shove.   
At first, she feels resistance and then hears a loud ripping sound as her shirt tears from where the Goblin King has hold of its hem. She feels the cool air on her exposed skin as the garment splits at its back seam. But her efforts produce the desired result. She is free from his grasp. Her collar dips low on her shoulders. She clutches her hands to her chest to prevent her torn shirt from slipping further down her arms.   
Jareth stands before her, unaffected by her violent response. His face is calm but the corners of his mouth lift upward. His tongue clicks against the back of his teeth in an admonishing fashion.   
“It seems you have ripped your shirt, my dear.” Ridicule laces his words and there is a ghost of amusement dancing in his eyes.   
“You stay away from me!” she shrieks, backing away from him. Her hands are free from the bracelet’s magic and she holds them up in front of her, almost as a boxer would, preparing to ward him off.   
He makes no attempt to stop her. In fact, he hasn’t moved from his spot since they arrived. His posture is relaxed and he shows no signs of his previous inclination to molest her. Other than the slight tremor working its way down his cape from her onslaught, he’s barely moved. Gloved hands are tucked politely behind his back as if he were casually observing her. His composed demeanor does little in the way of easing her panic.  
“Really Sarah, there is no call for such dramatics,” he chides her as if she is a petulant child. “If it were my intention to despoil you at the present, you would already be beneath me.” He pairs his threat with a grin that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.   
Perhaps in an attempt to calm the panicked woman, he changes the subject. Raising his hands, palms upward, he gestures to the room.   
“How do you like your accommodations?”  
Sarah warily glances around her new environment, careful to keep one eye on the Goblin King. She is in a massive bedchamber with stone walls that are strewn with dusty tapestries. Sconces holding tapered candles flicker with light. There is a great fireplace carved into the wall to her left. Before it is an ornate high-back chair clothed in deep burgundy velvet. In the corner opposite her, is a free standing mirror and in it she can see the reflection of arched French doors positioned behind her. They’re adorned with willowy drapes. They are open and she can see that it is dark outside, though she doesn’t know if it is evening or the early hours of morning. There are two oak doors at the far end of the room which the Goblin King bars from her. She hopes that one of them might lead to her freedom. A pedestal table made of black marble, inlaid with twining gold, occupies the center of the room. Something large and round rests on its surface but it is hidden from view by a cut of fabric thrown over it. Sarah’s body stiffens when she sees a vast canopied bed.   
She hates it.  
“It’s awful,” she mutters truthfully.  
Her response brings a chuckle from him which she was not expecting. His laugh is easygoing and his smile genuine, almost disarming. But Sarah is wary of wolves in sheep’s clothing.  
“Direct as ever!” His voice is deep and melodious. Looking around the room, he takes inventory.   
“True, it is lacking many of the niceties your kind seems to value,” he concedes, “Though I have to admit its dreary state comes more from a lack of necessity than actual neglect. I prefer to use my time more constructively than sleeping. I rarely spend much time in this room; however I suspect that will change now that you are here.”   
A sly look crosses his face as he lets his insinuation sink in.   
Sarah is more than aware of what he is alluding to. It makes her want to shudder. She suppresses the urge, determined not to show weakness in front of her adversary. A little bit of her stubborn defiance returns.  
“That’s not going to happen.”  
“What?” he raises his eyebrows in feigned innocence.  
“Me and you, that’s what,” she retorts. She almost puts her hands on her hips in a scolding manner before she realizes that would leave her breasts uncovered to him. “Never in a million years.”  
He snickers at her statement, as if she just told him the answer to two plus two was five.  
“Aren’t you a little young to be speaking so decisively about absolutes?” She can tell by his teasing smile that he’s baiting her. When she refuses to take the bait, he shakes his head.   
“It’s a little early in the game to jump to such a foolish resolution. After all, I would hate for you to rush into a decision you will only regret. Wait until you have been around for a millennium or two, I believe you will warm up to me.”   
He gives her a mischievous wink. She stares at him with disbelief. Was he actually trying to flirt with her? Did he truly think that he could turn on the charm and weasel his way into her good graces after everything he had done to her and her brother? His audacity astounds her.  
“Is that what you think this is, a game?” she asks, letting distaste enter her voice.  
Another wink.  
“Only of the best kind, my love.”  
She scoffs. He’s acting as if his abducting her was some kind of twisted elopement. She can’t let it stand. He may have dragged her to this God forsaken place but that doesn’t mean she has roll over for him.  
She pulls herself up taller in insult, losing a little of her dignity when her traitorous shirt slips further down, revealing the top of her bra.  
“Well if this is only a game then perhaps you ought to just play with yourself and leave me out of it!”   
Sarah can see that her last statement got to him. She inwardly relishes the fact. But her satisfaction is short lived. His face flashes with warning. She hears the leathery creak of his gloves as he flexes his hands. A tiny alarm in the back of her mind starts going off. Foolishly, she ignores it.   
“I see time hasn’t dulled your tongue or sharpened your good sense.” His comment stokes her ire but she says nothing.   
There’s a loaded pause.   
“Be careful Sarah. Since you are unacquainted with how to speak to a king, I shall forgive your ignorance, this once. However, I expect you to be a quick study and learn your position beneath me.”  
The dual meaning of his comment appalls her. There is nothing he could teach her that she has any desire to learn.   
“So you think that after every revolting thing you’ve done, I’m going to stay here and just be content to let you rule me?”   
Her comment hardens his face. Whatever semblance of playfulness he previously demonstrated melts away.   
“I think you will.”   
There’s a storm brewing in his eyes that would intimidate a lesser opponent, but Sarah can’t back down now.   
“I don’t think so Goblin King,” she proclaims, exhibiting more bravery than prudence, “I may be stuck here but there is no way in hell that I’m going to let you –”  
“Let me what?” he interrupts sharply, all teasing gone from his voice. He takes an intimidating step towards her, his cape hissing along the floor like a snake. A shocked Sarah backs up two. “Tell me, what is it you won’t let me do?”   
His sudden change in mood frightens her. Sarah senses that she may have gone too far. In her haste to assert some control of the situation that she currently finds herself in, she’s forgotten that this isn’t the same Jareth she dealt with as a teen. She snaps her mouth shut lest another offense tumbles out of it. Now she is trembling and he notices it. He gives her a harsh smile, enjoying her distress.  
“Need I remind you, precious, that I am ruler here so do not presume to tell me what you will let me do. I do as I please, when I please,” – a malicious look – “to whom I please, and it is your place to obey me.”   
His tone is authoritative and his gaze threatening. Sarah knows it is futile to argue with him, but she wouldn’t be any kind of a modern woman if she didn’t try.  
“I won’t!” she squeaks in protest, hating the way her voice cracks.  
Her objection seems to amuse him rather than anger him. His smile widens, displaying his jagged teeth. He runs his tongue across them, as if in anticipation.  
“Shall we see about that Sarah?” he sneers, a bit more fiercely than before. “I should like nothing better than prove to you exactly how wrong you are,” he moves towards her, sending her into retreat. He stops and appears to change his mind.  
“But alas, I haven’t the time at the present,” he sighs in disappointment. “As it is, I have more pressing matters to attend Aboveground that prevents me from giving you a more proper welcome. A loose thread in need of snipping so to say.”  
Sarah is more confused than comforted. Though she’s relieved for her own sake, she is worried about what kind of harm he’s engineering and upon whom. She jumps to a dreadful conclusion.   
“Toby,” she mutters vaguely. Her eyes enlarge with worry. “What are you going to do to Toby?”  
He was smiling again, that cruel, thin smile.  
“Leave Toby alone!” she cries frantically, her voice breaking from apprehension. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt him! Jareth, I swear, if you do anything to him – ”   
The Goblin King activates her bracelet, breaking off her would be threat. Instantly, her wrists are drawn tightly together. A bright chain reaches out to Jareth’s extended hand. He gives it a hard tug, stepping towards her as he does. Sarah lets out a screech as the chain retracts, pulling her with it. She slams up against the Goblin King’s immovable body. The air rushes out of her lungs in an audible ‘oof!’ His arms twine around her, drawing her into an unyielding embrace. She begins to struggle, causing his hold to tighten until she can barely breathe.  
“Be still,” he commands, ignoring her exertions to wrest herself free.   
“This is too close, this is way too close….” her brain is screaming at her. But the more she struggles the tighter his grip becomes. Finally, she does as she is told and quits squirming. He loosens his grip just enough to allow her to catch her breath, though it still feels like she is being strangled by a python. An agitated puff of air rustles the hair by her face. She drops her head to avoid meeting his gaze.   
“Still playing the heroine I see,” his tone is mocking but laced with severity. He removes his right hand from her bare back in favor of cupping her chin. He tilts her head back so their eyes can meet. Sarah instinctively closes hers, not willing to look into his mismatched eyes.  
“Look at me Sarah,” he demands. When his order isn’t immediately followed, he digs his fingers into her soft cheeks and gives her head a rough little shake.  
“I said look at me.”   
Sarah opens her dewy eyes. She is alarmed by the intensity of his stare.   
“You would do well not to defy me precious thing,” he speaks lowly and in a stern voice. “Doing so bodes no good for you and will only serve as provocation. While I am willing to indulge your stubbornness, up to a point, I will not brook insubordination. Do you understand me?”  
He glowers at her expecting an answer. Unable to find her voice, she nods weakly. Her response is rewarded by the grip on her face relaxing.  
His face softens.   
“That’s a good girl,” he practically purrs in satisfaction, “All will be well if you just learn to behave yourself.” Jareth runs a thumb across her lips. It tastes of sweat and leather making her want to gag. Leaning in closer to her, he lays his cheek against hers as he nuzzles her hair. His words are heated and the air by her ear becomes warm and damp with his breath. “My previous offer still stands precious, if you just let me rule you.”   
For a flashing instance, her mind jumps back to her teenaged self when Jareth offered her dreams to her.   
Sensing her thoughts, a sly smile plays across his lips.   
“Just fear me, love me, do what I say and I will be your slave.”   
His words slither into her ear, both enticing and repulsing her.   
“You may think I am a villain Sarah, and perhaps I am, but you will find that I can also be very generous.”   
His tongue jets out, hot and slick, and caresses her left ear.  
Sarah chokes back a gasp and jerks her head away from him, breaking his hold on her face and mind. Her retreat is stopped short by the arm that is still around her. The abrupt movement causes her shirt to drop further down her arms.   
It hasn’t gone unnoticed by the Goblin King.  
“Well, what have we here?”   
His gaze turns salacious. He reaches for her causing her to flinch away from him. She draws her arms up higher in a protective fashion, to prevent his unwanted touch.  
“Don’t,” she tells him hastily.  
Her attempt at shielding herself makes him laugh.   
“Oh come now Sarah, there is no need for such modesty with me!” He laughs again; the sound is both merry and dangerous. “After all, the time will come, very soon, that I shall know every inch of you!” There is sinful delight in his smile. With a flick of his wrist, he gestures to her tattered shirt. “Now be a lamb and remove that rag. Before I go, I should like to see what I have won this evening.”  
His words bring a rush of terror that freezes the blood in her veins. Eyes, still moist with unshed tears, grow wide and fearful. Her mouth drops open but no sound comes out. It is as if someone had reached into her throat and severed her vocal cords. The most she can produce is a weak mewling as she feebly shakes her head.  
Jareth raises a questioning eyebrow.  
“Pardon?” his voice is rich with mirth. “I don’t believe I heard you.”  
Sarah licks her lips and swallows hard.  
“no.”  
Her answer doesn’t seem to dampen his enthusiasm in the least. His smile broadens, threatening to overwhelm his face. A glint shines in his eye that causes her to shudder. She drops her chin to her chest to avoid his gaze.  
“It wasn’t a request my love,” he informs her cheerily. His arms constrict to emphasize this point. She feels his breastplate dig into the tender side of her forearms. “Have you forgotten our little chat already?”  
“Oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT!” her brain yammers in panic. Her mind goes into overdrive trying to find a way out of her precarious situation. Since refusal’s not a deterrent, she tries to appeal to whatever sense of chivalry he might possess.   
“Please Jareth, don’t do this.”   
Her voice is so low and trembling, she’s not sure he even heard her. Sarah holds her breath awaiting his reaction. The Goblin King is silent. A few moments pass, the only sound she can hear is her pulse thrumming in her head. She carefully raises her eyes. He is looking down at her, his face indecipherable.  
Unable to read him, she presses on.   
“I know that I promised –” she pauses, the words threatening to choke her. She softens her voice to keep it from becoming frantic and pushes past it, “I know what I promised but please, not like this.”  
She feels his grip loosen, a little, her words seemingly persuasive. If she could just bide some more time! She places her hand against his chest, trying to garner a little compassion from him. She continues, hoping he’ll be moved by her plea.   
“I just don’t think I’m ready. Please try to be patient.”   
There’s a disgusted look at the mention of the word.  
“Patient? You speak to me of patience?” His grip tightens again and all the progress she thought she made is swept away. His barbed demeanor returns. “I have been more patient than any bridegroom in the history of the worlds!”   
His right hand comes up swiftly and engulfs the one she has laying on his chest. She tries to withdraw it but he quickly twines his fingers with hers, knitting them together. As he lifts her hand to his mouth, his tongue flickers out from between his lips. He tastes the tips of her fingers.  
“Let us not forget Sarah, you gave yourself to me, in lieu of me taking your brother.”   
Her stomach takes a roll at his reference to Toby.   
He draws her in even closer.   
“You are mine, in part and parcel, of your own free will,” his eyes burn hotly into hers, “And willing or not beautiful Sarah, you will hold fast to our bargain.” He dips his head to kiss her knuckles almost in a courtly fashion then traces his lower lip with her index finger. “Now, will you honor our agreement?”  
He looks at her expectantly. Sarah is motionless, partially from his embrace but mostly from fear. Her heart is pounding in her ears. She’s certain he can feel it at this close proximity.   
Jareth waits for a reply but when none is forthcoming, either verbally or physically, he shakes his head regretfully.  
“Such a shame,” he sighs as if put upon, though he doesn’t sound particularly grieved. “Very well, suit yourself.”  
Rough hands grab at the cloth that is her only defense from his sight. With a vicious yank, he pulls her shirt down off her arms until it comes to a halt at her bound hands. He leaves it hanging over her wrists and hands, like a criminal would do with his jacket during a perp walk. Sarah is instantly filled with fear and shame at her uncovering.  
But Jareth isn’t done with her yet. Now his hands are at the top of her yoga pants, tugging them down over her hips. She squeezes her legs tightly together to prevent him from stripping them off her. Her efforts barely cause him a moment’s hindrance. She hears the tearing of cloth even over her own screams, pleading for him to stop.  
Jareth steps back to admire his handiwork. Sarah stands before him, hunched over and weeping; shaken to her very foundation. Her pants lay gathered at her feet like a puddle of black fabric. The experience is so horrifying and humiliating that she can’t control the shuddering sobs that overcome her.   
Jareth pays her no heed. Stepping beside her, he firmly places his arm around her back and his hand to the front of her shoulder and straightens her from her bent over position. When he has Sarah standing erect again, he grabs both of her shoulders and holds her out at arm’s distance. She tries, ineffectively, to cover herself with her hands and what remains of her shirt, attempting to preserve what little of her battered modesty she has left. His eyes scour over her frame, devouring every inch of her. She can feel her whole body flush with embarrassment while he inspects her like a piece of merchandise. It’s degrading. For the first time in her life, Sarah Williams wishes she had never been born.  
“Beautiful,” he murmurs appreciatively, not taking his eyes off of her nearly naked form. The brashness of his gaze makes her skin prickle with embarrassed heat. He takes a deep breath as if he is trying to inhale her beauty. “Yes, very beautiful,” he mutters more to himself than to her. His hands smooth down her arms, unto her waist and rest on her hips just above her panties. He fingers the lacey elastic at the top, gingerly tugging at it. Eventually his eyes meander back up to hers.  
“The years have been kind to you Sarah Williams,” his voice sounds pleased.   
“Very, very kind. I knew when I first beheld you that you would bloom into an attractive woman, but even I couldn’t have predicted how stunning you would become.”   
Sarah stays very still and holds her breath, waiting for the inevitable. But then, he does the unexpected and lets her go.  
“Your comeliness is enough to tempt even the most devout of men. I would enjoy nothing more than to explore your plentiful charms,” his lungs emit a gusty sigh, “But regretfully I have more urgent matters I must see to.”   
There’s a wild fluttering in her chest at the thought of him returning to her world.   
“What are you going to do?”   
“What I am going to do Aboveground is not your concern,” he informs her brusquely, “You should be more concerned with what I am going to do once I return.”  
“Jareth, please don’t hurt Toby –”   
He ignores her and strides past her out the glassed doors to the balcony outside. Sarah hurriedly follows, calling out to him desperately as she does.  
“Please don’t hurt him! You can do anything you like to me, just please don’t hurt Toby!”  
He glances back at her over his shoulder and gives her a nasty little grin.   
“In due time precious, in due time.”  
Then, in a shower of glitter and flapping of wings, he transforms into a white owl. He lifts himself heavenwards on silent wings.  
Sarah rushes to the balcony’s ledge, shouting shrilly into the night air as she does.   
“JARETH, PLEASE DON’T HURT MY BROTHER!”  
She leans over its stone wall, trying to give her beseeching shrieks more distance and volume. Whether he can hear her or not is unknown as he disappears into the dark sky.   
Sarah remains there screaming long after she knows he is out of reach of her pleas. Her voice fails her long before she is done venting her frustration. It hoarsens and falters until all that remains is a pitiable rasping from her raw throat. Finally, her resilience reaches its limit and she crumples onto the cold stones, alone and crying in the darkness.  
.  
.   
PART 2  
.  
Sarah Williams always thought that mistakes were just lessons waiting to be learned. It was a childlike notion, but she firmly believed that if someone was truly sorry for the mistake they made and repented for it that good things were bound to happen.   
That’s how it was for her those many years ago when she wished Toby away. Through her own selfishness, she wished him into the greedy clutches of the Goblin King. She was immediately repentant. With teenaged gumption, a good deal of luck and help from friends, she won him back and vanquished her nemesis. It served as an epiphany for her and she was a better person for it. She became a devoted sister and they shared all the happiness of sibling love. Over the years, she even began to view her careless mistake as a blessing, bringing her and her brother closer together, a reward for a hard learned lesson.  
She recalls the night she returned from the Labyrinth with Toby. All the joy and relief she felt when they made it back! She even had a little celebration with the friends she made from the Underground, carefree and blissfully ignorant of the danger that capturing the attention of the Goblin King entailed. How could she have known that her adolescent blunder would carry such terrible consequences? She hadn’t the capacity to understand the chain of events she set into motion. The only thing she knew was she had won. She fought the proverbial dragon, saved the kingdom and rode off into the sunset. All’s well that ends well, or so she thought.  
What a naïve fool she had been.  
A more useful lesson she should have learned was that wars aren’t won by the first battle. What she mistook as a defeat was merely a strategic withdrawal to regroup and design a new plan of attack. And what a successful plan it was, using Toby to get to her. He exploited the love (and guilt) she felt for her brother to ensnare her. It wasn’t fair. She expected him to play by the rules or at least some code of ethics she imagined his kind was bound to. Sarah had read all the stories. When the heroine beats the witch or evil monster or wicked stepmother, they stayed beaten. They don’t come back and they certainly don’t win. That’s not how the story goes. The hero learns a valuable lesson, good is supposed to triumph over evil and they all live happily ever after. That was the way it should have gone for her. Instead she was trapped in some unholy fairytale where the villain wins and the heroine is left to suffer.   
Sarah sits with her back against the stone wall and knees drawn up to her chest, contemplating her situation. Her tears dried up long ago. The fear and sorrow pass, leaving her empty inside. No, not quite empty. Deep inside her, where scholars might perceive the soul to reside is a hollow anguish she has never felt before.   
Hours pass and eventually the sky begins to lighten, heralding the oncoming sun. She’s shivering now, the cool of the night inevitably having an affect on her naked body. She stands up, her limbs without sensation and her joints creaking from inactivity. Her bonds had dissipated once the Goblin King left and, trying to restore some of the feeling back into her arms, she rubs her hands briskly over them. On cold, stiff legs, Sarah walks back into the adjoining room.   
It’s the same as she left it: confining and dreary with that ominous bed foretelling dangers to come. She glances down at the tattered fabric that once served as her pants which were rendered useless when Jareth ripped them from her. Trembling from the cold, she looks towards the bed once more. For a brief second, she considers crawling under the wine red comforter to get warm. She immediately decides against it. The thought of lying in his bed and what it entails makes her mentally sick. She would rather lose a body part to frost bite before she would ever willingly enter that bed. Instead, she inelegantly yanks the cover off and wraps it around her frigid form.  
Then she notices a light in the room that the worn candles have no business emitting. She turns around and sees a warming fire in the fireplace that wasn’t there a moment ago. Looking nervously around the room, she tries to find the one responsible for this welcome gift. There’s nobody else in there with her. A tingling sensation runs down her back warning her of danger. She cautiously approaches the fireplace, ready to retreat if any threat presents itself. None does. Satisfied that she’s in no immediate peril, Sarah draws closer to the fire, letting its warmth embrace her, grateful for it.  
Before long, the heat comes back to her. With its return comes the thought of escape.   
Sarah crosses the room to the oak doors at the far end. They look old and, she hopes, are decrepit. Grasping the tarnished brass handle of the one; she tugs on it. She is met with resistance. Sarah swears and pulls harder; putting all her strength into it, with no never mind that she dropped her blanket. It doesn’t budge. She lets loose another cuss word and gives up. Now she turns her attention to the other door.  
She gives the second door a hard yank, expecting it to be as unyielding as its predecessor. To her surprise, it opens easily. A thrill goes through her with her success. She opens it fully to make good her escape.  
What she finds on the other side of the door leaves her disappointed. Instead of being a possible exit as she had hoped, it leads into the main bath.   
The room is pristine with marble floors and all the modern amenities. A step up sunken tub is situated along the adjacent wall, big enough to fit four adults comfortably. On the wall opposite to the door, there’s a large, beautiful stained glass window. A labyrinthine design edges the glass and it’s filled with creeping vines laden with blue flowers. At its center is a mosaic depicting a royal couple that looks undeniably like her and Jareth. The stained glass Sarah is dressed in the white ball gown from her peach induced dream with the Goblin King handing her a shining crystal.   
As unnerving as the image is, Sarah doesn’t let it faze her and she stalks over to the window to test the latch. It’s as un-obliging as the first door and she considers smashing it, not so much to get out but more on principle. She looks around the bathroom to find a tool to lend assistance. She is in the middle of contemplating whether she might be able to tear the towel rack out of the wall when she realizes something has changed.   
The tub, which she is certain was empty when she entered the room, has been filled. But she didn’t hear any water running. Nobody came into the room behind her. Yet here it is, full nearly to its brim, with water. And it looks oh so inviting. A lazy steam rises from its surface, promising warmth and relaxation for her weary bones. Beside the tub are fragrant soaps and sparkling bottles containing bath oils and shampoos one would expect to see at an extravagant spa. There is a bouquet of candles that flickers in the corner releasing an exotic scent of honeysuckle and jasmine. A cozy, fluffy pink towel lies next to them accompanied with a silk floor length dressing gown. A pair of matching white slippers completes the ensemble. It is the image of perfect tranquility.  
It is meant to tempt her; the sweet smelling air, the warm, inviting waters, all designed to entice the exhausted woman. But Sarah sees it for what it is: a manipulation, its purpose to distract her from her mission. These aren’t the serene waters of an oasis paradise; it’s a treacherous pool of Lethe.   
Sarah snatches up the silken robe. At least she doesn’t have to walk around naked anymore. She secures the garment with its sash around her waist and slides her feet into the slippers. Then without a second glance, she exits the room, closing the oaken door behind her.  
Back in the bedroom, the fire still crackles in its stone concave but the room is lit with more brightness than the flames can provide. Dawn’s light is streaming in through the open balcony doors, chasing away the night’s gloom. With escape still foremost on her mind, she returns to the balcony to check its feasibility for a get away.  
The horizon over the Labyrinth is painted in red and gold, the appearance of the sun mere moments away. She approaches the balcony’s walled ridge. Placing her hands on the ledge, she peers over the side. Vines grow precariously along its outer surface, taking root in the cracks and crevices of the castle’s stone walls. She is a long way from the ground. Seven, maybe eight stories up. Much too high to jump and land safely. She considers tying the bed sheets together as a rope and using them to shimmy down the side. But by her estimation, its length would be lacking by about forty feet, still a dangerous drop for her. There are no trees or roofs close enough to the castle for her to leap. Perhaps the vines are sturdy enough to support her weight so she can climb down? Sarah reaches out to the nearest vine to test its viability and is met with an unpleasant surprise.   
The vine which she intends to be her salvation wraps snuggly around her wrist and anchors her to the wall. She lets out a startled yelp. She starts pulling against it, trying to get herself free, but it only crawls higher up her arm. Using her free hand, she starts ripping at the deceitful plant; but with each creeper she tears off, two are there to replace it. While she’s struggling with the restraints on her arm, unbeknownst to her, there are vines stealthily twining up her legs. She’s unaware of their progress until she tries to step back to lend more force to her resistance. They’re up to her knees by then. She reaches down to swat them off her. It makes no difference though. By now, they are up her thighs and have her firmly in their grasp. The vine that had been working its way up her arm has reached her shoulder and still growing, wraps itself around her chest effectively pinning her other arm to her side. Before long, she is encased in long, leafy tendrils; like a moth caught in a spider’s cocoon.  
Sarah twists and jerks in her shrubby bonds to no avail. They are not about to release their prisoner despite her best efforts. She screams and thrashes until she is sweaty and breathing hard. Finally, she gives up.   
“Okay, okay, I get it Goblin King,” she mutters angrily under her breath, “I’m not going anywhere.”  
As if they were waiting for a formal declaration of surrender, the vines loosen their hold on her and wither back to their original spots clinging to the outside wall.   
Sarah quickly steps back out of their reach and spits at them defiantly, silently wishing she were spitting at Jareth and not some stupid plants. Thwarted at every turn, she realizes that escape is not an option. Even without her captor there, measures have been put in place to ensure her staying put. Doors and windows can easily be locked but those damn vines weren’t merely a precaution but something more insidious. She comes to a conclusion that would seem ludicrous in our world but, after witnessing it with her own eyes, is more than probable here.   
Sarah suspects they were reacting to her thoughts.   
She clears her mind and steps towards the ledge again. She examines the vines. They look and act like harmless plants, nothing extraordinary about them. Then she deliberately thinks of escape. She watches with disgust as the vines move towards her, summoned by her unspoken intentions.   
She jumps back out of their reach. Thankfully, they don’t follow her and just resettle back into their niches. Sarah feels shocked and appalled that even her mind isn’t safe in this place. The fire, the bath and especially the vines all responded to her thoughts and needs. Even the ones she was unaware of. The magic of the place was tapping into her psyche and reacting accordingly, trying to keep her placated and prevent escape. It’s a violation on a whole new level.   
In a fit of outrage and revulsion, Sarah attacks the seemingly innocuous plants. They shrink back from her assault but not before she gets her hands on the ones nearest to her. She tears at them in a frenzied rage, ripping them from the safety of the wall, intent on their destruction. She decimates the shrubbery, leaving it strewn upon the balcony stones. Even castrated from the main stem, the vines still squirm helplessly on the floor. Sarah viciously hopes that they can feel pain.  
After her rage is spent, she becomes painfully aware that she’s trapped: in this room, in this castle, in this world; with no means of procuring the slightest measure of freedom. Even her mind was a prisoner here, her innermost thoughts susceptible to its magic. If she can’t even save herself, what chance did she have at saving her brother? It’s bad enough that she couldn’t do anything to improve her own circumstances but it is even worse thinking about what Jareth could be doing to Toby now that she wasn’t there to protect him.   
Her imagination, which she usually prides herself on, reveals her darkest fears. Foremost is the image of Jareth turning Toby into a goblin. She remembers her brother writhing on her kitchen floor with horrible vividness, his agony excruciating. She wonders if that is his fate, to live out his remaining years as a goblin, deformed and miserable. Would Jareth bring him back to the Labyrinth as a cruel reminder of her irresponsible selfishness? Sarah couldn’t imagine a more spiteful punishment for her or her brother than Toby suffering under Jareth’s control and her incapable of helping him. The thought is more than she can bear. Would the deal she struck be enough to keep Toby safe?   
Her brain ignites with memory and Jareth’s words ring through her head like a bell:   
Surrender yourself and come away with me…  
And so she had, in exchange for his promise to change Toby back and never return for him. That was the agreement; he had to honor his word!   
Didn’t he?   
A small seed of skepticism begins to take root in her mind. What kind of proof did she actually have that Jareth would keep his word? While she couldn’t directly label him a liar (because he never technically lied to her or her brother), he had a way of bending the truth to suit his purpose. Twisting his words, finding loopholes, deception through omittance, all designed to mislead his victims, all a form of lying without actually going against his word. She begins to worry. Has she overlooked some small facet of their arrangement that might give him a way out of upholding his end of the deal? She wouldn’t put it past him doing that. He was shrewd and treacherous in his negotiations. You think that you’re getting the bargain of a lifetime when in reality you’re selling your soul. Sarah would have likened him to some sort of a malevolent lawyer, if the devil ever needed legal representation, and even then Satan better read the fine print closely.   
So what kind of guarantee did she really have that he wouldn’t find some ambiguity in their deal that he could exploit? Because he promised not to? Sarah snorts at the notion. He’s already proven he isn’t to be trusted. His words are nothing more than worthless promises from a cunning liar.   
Still, despite everything she perceives about the Goblin King, she hopes all the same.   
Although she can almost reconcile the fact that her brother might get through this whole ordeal unharmed, that still leaves her to contemplate her own prospects.  
They appear unsavory to say the least.   
Sarah knows, with blaring certainty, what Jareth has in store for her; there wasn’t even the luxury of a doubt. He plans on having her, probably within the first minute of his return, whether by force or coercion. She realizes this is a very different Goblin King than the one she defeated in her youth. Whatever restraints he was previously operating under are gone now and he seems to have no qualms in proving it. This time, he definitely has power over her. She can’t just rely on a line from a book or bluster her way out of danger like she did before. She needs to be more careful in the way she interacts with him. She’ll have to be smarter, more resourceful if she’s to have any chance of regaining her freedom.  
Her mind drifts back to their exchange when she first arrived, the horrific way he assaulted her and the utter helplessness she felt. Sarah’s throat tightens when she thinks about what he did to her, how he was unmoved when she cried, begged and pleaded for him to stop. The way she cringed before him, like a wretched coward, blubbering for an ounce of mercy from the Goblin King. How victorious he must have felt to see her like that!   
Her cheeks burn from embarrassment and disgust.   
Never again, she swears to herself.   
Never again will she give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower before him, no matter what he does to her. She knows there is no amount of supplication or negotiating that will sway him. He may have won and trapped her there with him but she’ll be damned if she’ll let him turn her into some hysterical victim. She will face her fate bravely and do what she has to, at least until she can find some way of saving herself. Until that time comes, she must find a way to deal with the Goblin King’s advances.  
The time will come, very soon, that I will know every inch of you….  
Her stomach knots. The idea of his body on top of her, arms around her, it inside her, defiling her body. The thought sickens her. To be used by a man (not-man) such as him was reprehensible. She closes her eyes attempting to banish the thought from her mind.   
Trying to distract herself, Sarah walks over to the balcony’s edge. The vines retreat at her approach but Sarah isn’t interested in doing anymore pruning. She looks out across the Goblin City, beyond to the Labyrinth she traversed so many years ago.   
She remembers when she first came there how in awe she was. It was a magical land filled with danger and excitement, everything an adventurous teenaged girl could ask for! Now, looking at it again though captive eyes, it’s a prison, meant to keep her in a world she wants nothing to do with.   
Sarah stares down at the city below. There is movement now that a new day has dawned. She can see tiny figures scuttling around in the streets going about their daily business, unaware that they are being observed from above. Sarah watches them with just enough interest to keep her mind occupied. She sees a goblin sweeping debris out of its front door. Another is opening its shop, though from her vantage point Sarah can’t decipher what kind of shop it is. There’s a few gathering water from the fountain in the middle of the square. For them, it’s just another day.  
Hours pass without anything of significance. Sarah watches as the goblins go about their mundane lives, unaffected by her plight. Though there was a brief moment of excitement when a wagon filled with barrels of what she believed to be beer, almost ran over a seemingly lame goblin in the street. The driver pulled his cart to and abrupt stop, causing two barrels to roll off the back. In no time, half a dozen or so goblins were there to snatch up the loose barrels. They (and the now not-so-lame goblin) absconded with their ill gotten gains, leaving the driver screaming and shaking his fist in the air.   
The sun is high in the heavens when Sarah notices the first twinges of hunger. Her belly twists and there is a distinct grumbling sound coming from it. She wonders how long it has been since she last ate and when she might again. Just thinking of food makes her mouth moisten. She is so hungry that she even imagines she can smell food!  
Sarah lifts her nose to the breeze and scents the air. It’s not her imagination, she definitely smells food. A tantalizing aroma wafts out the open doors of the bedroom. Curious and hungry, Sarah goes back inside to investigate.   
When she enters, she immediately discovers the source of the intoxicating smell. A large wooden table has materialized in the room while she was outside and is laden with delectable food. Roast chicken, ham, buttered potatoes, seasoned vegetables, pies and cakes clutter the table. There is a pitcher of cool milk and a crystal decanter filled with sweet red wine to quench her thirst. A large loaf of warm bread, accompanied by a golden lump of butter and small crock of honey, emits a comforting aroma that takes her back to when she was a little girl in grandmother’s kitchen. It all looks and smells so wonderful she can hardly stop herself from drooling. Sarah eyes the table hungrily wondering where to start first but then she spies a serpent in the sumptuous Garden of Eden: a bowl of plump, ripe peaches.   
The sight of the offensive fruit churns her stomach. She picks up the unwelcome offering, storms out onto the balcony and in one fluid motion pitches the fruit and its bowl over the side.   
She returns back inside to the feast that awaits her. The food still looks and smells delicious but Sarah has lost her appetite. It is just one more temptation in this cursed place that she must steel herself against. She knows that it is a uselessly defiant gesture but at that moment she would rather starve to death from her own stubbornness than take one bite of the enticing food.  
With her stomach still growling, Sarah returns to her perch on the balcony. She passes the hours watching the city and its denizens. The day whiles itself away as the sun travels across the sky, marking time and lengthening shadows. It is near twilight now and the first star has appeared in the dimming heavens. She stares at the twinkling light and can’t help but remember the childish rhyme that goes with it:  
Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…I wish I may, I wish I might…..  
She halts the childhood rhyme in her head. She won’t even entertain the thought of making a wish, especially knowing who its grantor would be. She imagines the Goblin King would be more than delighted to exploit another one of her follies.   
Her thoughts turn to Jareth. He’s been gone the entire day and she begins to wonder when he might return. Not that she particularly desires his company, she could easily do without that, but she would like to be relieved of her present languor.   
Her first day Underground was spent confined to his bedroom and its balcony; her emotions fluctuating between resolve and frustration, hope and despair and then finally anxiety and boredom. She was eager for some sort of relief. Anything (well almost anything) was preferable to all this waiting. Was he ever going to come back and let her out of there? Or was he going to keep her locked up in his bedroom as an unwilling consort, to visit at his leisure? She wonders if that is what he has planned for her. The thought of spending endless days, months, years, pent up like a reluctant songbird, with only his company to break up the monotony, is maddening. She doubts her mind would be able to withstand the confinement.  
A slight chill starts to settle in the air that sends a tired shiver through her body. The bustle of the city below winds down as its inhabitants retire to their homes for the evening. She glances one last time at the goblin city below her, its landscape now dotted with glowing windows, before she turns and walks into the brightened confines of the Goblin King’s bedroom.  
The candles are lit once more, chasing the shadows to the far corners of the room. The fire bursts to life upon her entrance and crackles merrily in its stony sheath. She sees the long table has been appetizingly set with a new array of mouth watering victuals only this time she notices that there are two chairs and place settings when previously there was only one. Apparently, she is to expect company.   
She ignores the offered sustenance and meanders over to the fireplace. Tiredly, she leans against its granite mantle, her back towards the balcony’s doors. She folds her arms over her chest in a weary manner. Exhaustion is creeping into her but she doesn’t want to sleep. She stares into the fire, letting its dancing flames mesmerize her, and waits.  
She’s not certain how long she stands there like that, quiet and reflective. It’s not until a faint flutter of wings reaches her ears that she realizes she is no longer alone.   
Footsteps echo behind her announcing the Goblin King’s arrival.  
.  
.   
PART 3  
.  
An unbidden tremble comes over her.   
“Ah Sarah, I see you have made yourself comfortable,” he remarks, indicating the silken robe she has on. She can hear the smug approval in his voice and does not need to look to know there is a smirk on his face to match it. “I hope you have found my hospitality satisfactory.”   
She doesn’t respond, merely remains as she is, seemingly oblivious to his presence. There is a short silence. Then he is on the move again, his steps sounding closer. She forces herself to remain composed, resolving not to lose her nerve. He does not approach her as she anticipates but instead, he stops an unknown distance away from her. She hears the soft rustling of fabric.  
“My apologies, precious thing, for my abrupt departure earlier,” he goes on casually, “But, as they say in your world, ‘business before pleasure’.” More rustling. “Still it was abominably rude of me to neglect you for so long on your first day here. However can I make it up to you, my love?”  
When she finally turns to address him, his bearing is as she predicted; taunting and expectant. The question is asked lightly enough but she knows it is meant to engage her in combative banter. But Sarah is not in the mood to spar words.   
“Is my brother dead?” she asks bluntly.   
He is in the middle of removing his cloak when she catches him with her question and it momentarily stops his fingers in their progress. It produces a genuinely puzzled look from him but is quickly suppressed. A teasing expression slips easily in its place. He strolls to the table and lays his cloak across one of the chairs.  
“Still gnawing on that bone I see.” He peels his gloves off and tosses them on the table. Picking up the decanter, he fills a crystal goblet halfway with wine. “It astounds me that after everything you’ve been through, by his design no less, that you would still fuss over his welfare. Your concern for your brother is commendable Sarah, though I think not entirely deserved.”  
His jaded words fail to deter her. She redirects her question, a bit more forcefully.  
“I don’t care what you think. Is Toby okay?”  
Her curtness causes his lips to quirk up in an uneven grin. He hides it behind his goblet.   
“I don’t see why he should not be,” he gives an uncaring shrug, “Though I suppose our definitions of ‘okay’ might differ a bit.”   
He’s being purposefully evasive and it starts to frustrate her. Trying to get him to answer her question was like trying to nail Jello to a wall. He’s enjoying her worry and is intentionally trying to draw it out.   
“Jareth, please don’t play games with me,” she entreats him, “Just tell me what you’ve done to my brother.” She intentionally lets her voice slip into a plea hoping sincerity might work where directness has failed.  
His eyes dance with mischief which leads Sarah to believe he is going to toy with her more. But then he seems to reconsider and his bearing shifts.  
“I have done nothing to your brother,” he tells her dismissively as he takes a sip of his wine.   
Sarah stares at him with accusing disbelief. His confession should be a relief for her but she still can’t bring herself to accept it at face value. The Goblin King can read the doubt written on her face.   
“You don’t believe me?” Her silence confirms his assumption. He looks almost offended. With an insulted sigh, he puts his wine glass down. “Very well, allow me to lay your worries to rest.”   
He turns from her and walks over to the black marble pedestal in the middle of the room. Sarah watches as he whisks the cloth off the top of the mysterious object it protects. Beneath is a crystal.  
It looks just like the crystals Jareth is so fond of skillfully rolling between his hands only this one is much, much larger. It is the size of a basketball, maybe even bigger, and is held stationary on the table by a three pronged stand. Sarah can’t help but be in awe of its enormity.   
He looks back at her expectantly.  
“Come Sarah,” he beckons to her, “Judge if what I say is true.”  
She moves across the room until she is standing in front of Jareth, the giant crystal between them. The crystal begins to glow with magic and fills with swirling mists. With a wave of his hand, the clouds dissipate to reveal their secret.  
The image of a Victorian house comes into focus. It’s nighttime but she can still recognize her old home. The scene blurs a bit then refocuses on a room in the house, more specifically her brother’s room. The room is very dim but her eyes are able to make out the furnishings that mark the room as his. A sudden shift under the blanket lets her know that the bed is occupied. She recognizes the form underneath the comforter.  
It’s Toby!   
She nearly leaps with joy. He isn’t dead or hurt but sleeping, albeit fitfully, safe and sound in his bed. The tiniest of smiles graces her lips at the sight of his slumbering form, though he seems troubled in his sleep. His body jerks beneath the covers and his face is pinched in a worried expression. He tosses his head restlessly on his pillow and his mouth parts in unspoken conversation. Eventually, he groans a name in his sleep:  
Sarah.   
Even through the crystal, she he can still hear the torment in his voice. It breaks her heart. Her hand is drawn towards the crystal image of her brother, trying to comfort him.  
“Toby,” she murmurs wistfully.  
As if reacting to an unseen prod, her brother’s eyes snap open. He jolts straight up in bed, eyes wild and searching. Sarah’s breath quickens and she instinctively reaches out to touch the shining globe. But the instant Sarah’s fingers meet with the smooth surface of the glowing orb; the scene is unexpectedly snuffed out by darkness. Bewildered, she grasps the crystal with both hands, trying to will it back to life. But it’s too late. He’s gone.   
She anxiously looks up at Jareth.  
“Bring him back,” she insists eagerly.  
He smiles devilishly at her.   
“No.”  
The fine thread that is holding her together snaps.  
“Bring him back!” she yells at him. Blood rushes to her face as an impassioned rage sweeps her up in its grip. She can’t stop it, nor does she want to, but instead takes refuge in her fury.  
His smile broadens in a gruesome way that makes Sarah want to scream. Pointed teeth gleam at her in the candlelight. There is something openly perilous in the way he is looking at her.  
“Manners Sarah,” his voice lilts with mockery but underneath there’s a sharp edge to his words. “I will not tolerate such outbursts, not even from you.” His eyes narrow dangerously.  
Sarah would be a fool to ignore the warning, especially after his earlier demonstration. The last thing she wants is to provoke him. She can’t allow her emotions to get her into a situation she has no chance of winning. Taking a mental step back, she reins in her temper with a deep breath.   
“Will you please let me see my brother again?” she says as sweetly as she can through clenched teeth.  
Her new demeanor seems to appease him. His ire, as quickly as it was riled, ebbs away.  
“Better,” he praises her. His mouth relaxes into a harmless smirk. “While I do appreciate your fire my love, you must learn when it is acceptable.”   
Grinding her teeth, Sarah stares at him but says nothing.   
“As polite as your request is precious, I am afraid I must decline it,” he clothes the crystal with the dark fabric again, “It is enough that you seen he is well. But,” he continues hastily when she opens her mouth to raise an objection “perhaps in the future I might allow you to make use of it on your own.”  
Her protests die on her lips at his statement. Was he really offering what she thinks he’s offering?  
“You’ll let me use it on my own?”   
Jareth tips his head in the affirmative.   
She presses him further.  
“Does that mean you’ll show me how to use it?” she asks incredulously.   
His mouth twists wolfishly.  
“Perhaps,” his voice dips suggestively, “If you learn to behave yourself and ask me very nicely.”  
She can discern his intention and it causes the back of her neck to bead with sweat. “Don’t let him rattle you,” her inner voice is warning her. Pushing her nervousness aside, she tries to redirect his focus.   
“Will you please teach me how to use it now?”   
He chuckles at her earnestness.   
“That is a lesson for another day. This evening, I have other things I would teach you.”  
Sarah recoils from his words, unable to hide her unease, her tactic failing to distract him.  
“Stall,” her mind whispers to her frantically.  
Disguising her fear with nonchalance, she turns her back to him and walks away. She can barely keep her knees from knocking as she does. Sarah has no idea where she is going only that she has to put some distance between her and Jareth. She stops at the dinner table she previously ignored, not knowing what to do next.   
“Hungry Sarah?”   
She looks back at him and sees he has rounded the marble stand. Amusement arches his brows and there is mirth in his tone. Eager to stall, she jumps on the excuse he has provided her.  
“Maybe a little,” she replies airily, trying to sound more poised than she feels.  
Jareth’s smile widens at her bravado.  
“Then by all means, take nourishment!” His hand gestures towards the table with invitation. “Eat, drink.”  
Sarah stares at the food. She hadn’t actually considered eating. Her stomach is so clenched that she doesn’t think it would accept even the tiniest of morsels.   
He senses her hesitation.  
“What is the matter Sarah? Is the food not to your liking?”  
It’s not so much a question as an open challenge to her ruse. She’s not at all pleased at its uncovering but she has to play the hand she dealt herself.  
“No,” she rebuts a little defensively. Then inspiration strikes. “It’s just I remember what happened the last time I ate something in this place.”  
His brows disappear into the wispy hair that tapers down his forehead.   
“You think the food is drugged?” the ridicule in his voice apparent. His eyes expand with amusement. “Perhaps there is a little poison in the punch?”  
Not waiting for an answer, he strolls over to the table and stops right in front of her. He is so close that she can see her reflection in his multi hued eyes. There is something extremely unsettling in the way he stares at her that causes her throat to tighten and mind to freeze up.  
Without taking his eyes off her, he reaches down, picks a grape from its stem and pops it in his mouth. As he bites down, a tiny spattering of juice reaches the outer concave of his lips and the tip of his tongue emerges to reclaim the sweet liquid that has escaped.   
“Satisfied?”   
She is left speechless with a kind of inborn dread that a small creature might feel when it hears the high keening of a hawk searching for its next meal. Jareth doesn’t seem to notice or, if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. His eyes twinkle wickedly as he plucks another grape from the bunch and raises it to her lips. It takes Sarah a second to realize that he is waiting for her to open her mouth. Her fear dissolves leaving revulsion in its aftermath. Did he actually expect her to eat from his hand like a caged bird pecking at some proffered seed?  
The absurd (though oddly accurate) comparison breaks the hold his disconcerting eyes have on her. Sarah’s brain sputters a bit as it comes back online. She pushes his hand away from her mouth. The knots in her vocal cords loosen just enough for her to stammer out a response.  
“I– I’ve never really cared for grapes.”   
His heavy stare is broken when he begins to laugh. It’s a hard, unexpected laugh, as if she had just said something tremendously witty. Even in her muddled state, it’s easy to deduce his laughter is at her expense. Her back stiffens with annoyance. Sarah never liked being laughed at but being laughed at by him was an even bigger affront.   
“Oh Sarah,” he sighs affectionately when the last of his chuckling plays out, “In all my years, I have never met anyone as titillating and charming as you! You are a rare paradox of cynicism and naiveté that I find fascinating.” His ostentatious grin only compounds her irritation. “I shall never grow bored with you my precious thing.”  
She angrily blushes at his statement, annoyed at how easily he can fluster her.   
“Get a grip on yourself Sarah!” She scolds herself, “Quit letting him jerk your chain!” It’s true, he’s been steering her actions and emotions ever since she’s been there and she’s had enough. After all, if she can’t maintain control over her own feelings, what luck is she to have fending his off? No, she must remain level headed for her own sake and find a way to lead him off track.  
“And how many is that?” she asks him abruptly.  
For the second time in the span of so many minutes, her question has caught him off guard.  
“What?” A frown replaces his once smile.   
Seeing his confusion, she decides to press her advantage.   
“You said in all your years you never met anyone like me,” she regurgitates his earlier comment. “I’d like to know how many years that is.”  
His eyes slant with suspicion at her new line of questioning. There’s a sudden wariness where there was once pretension. He disguises it behind a mischievous smile.  
“To what do I owe this sudden inquisitiveness?”  
Despite the authority that his voice carries, his question is posed from a position of uncertainty. It’s a position unfamiliar to the Goblin King and not one he seems comfortable with.   
A plan starts to form behind her emerald eyes.   
“Get him talking,” her little voice suggests, “See what you might get out of him.”   
Summoning her considerable acting abilities, she shrugs casually.  
“Just curious,” she replies, turning to saunter down to the far end of the table. She feels bolder with more distance between them. In a drawl that lingers between inquisitive and bored, she continues coolly, “The way you talk, you make it sound like you’ve been around for ages and ages; tricking us stupid humans into playing your sick games. I was wondering exactly how long it’s been.”  
Jareth stiffens at her indolent words.  
“C’mon, take the bait,” she wills him silently, “Get your knickers in a bunch and take the bait….”  
As if her unspoken thoughts were heard by some far off deity of fortune, her entreaties are rewarded.  
“Longer than you can comprehend my fair simpleton,” he sneers at her, obvious disdain in his voice. He tilts his head high to look down his nose at her. “To one who measures time in mere decades, an existence that spreads across eons would be inconceivable to your paltry imagination.”  
His insults sting her pride but she takes comfort in the fact that she also stung his. Unaffected, she persists.  
“So in all those eons, you never once came across someone else like me?” she wraps her barb in coyness and trains her face to reflect innocent disbelief. “What exactly makes me so special?”   
Jareth’s not buying into the act. His eyes remain skeptical but his smirk has returned. A familiar look of amused arrogance drifts back into his features.  
“Still the self absorbed child I see,” he scoffs with condescension. “I would have thought age might have imparted some humility in you but it seems that lesson does not come easily for you.”  
She’s tempted to call him out on his hypocrisy (chastising her about a lack of humility!) but realizes it would be counterproductive and swallows the urge.   
“Not at all,” she replies with indifference. “I was just wondering if it’s my charm that fascinates you so much or the fact that I was the only one to beat you.”  
Her last words strike a nerve, and he loses some of his composure. He’s clearly agitated, if his tightened jaw and sharpening eyes are any indication. She’s in dangerous territory now. If she’s not careful, things could turn unfortunate for her at any moment. But she also knows the more agitated he is, the less guarded with his words he becomes. He might slip and reveal something unintended, something she can use against him. The possible reward is worth the risk.  
“What a high opinion you have garnered for yourself,” his words drip with an equal amount of scorn and ridicule, “Thinking you could in anyway best me.”   
He snickers at the thought.   
“Your ‘victory’ was only a result of my underestimation of your own childish stubbornness and an old quirk of magic reinforced by your predecessors, nothing more.” His hand cuts sharply through the air, dismissing her success to be inconsequential. “As for taking airs of being the only one, do not flatter yourself. I have ceded to others far beyond your scant capabilities.”   
Sarah bristles at his haughtiness.  
“Oh really?” her voice is high and taunting “You mean to tell me that someone else got the better of you at your own twisted games?” She wears an expression of insincere doubt. “I can scarcely believe it. And just who were they?”  
Her words dig deep into his pride and she almost regrets them when his gaze blackens. She imagines she can feel the temperature in the room drop a few degrees.   
“Others older and wiser than you,” he retorts rather harshly at her. His voice reflects resentment at the admittance. “And I can assure you that they did not rely on misguided luck or an insipid line from a book.”  
Sarah’s mind snaps to attention. He doesn’t know it but in his rush to humble her, he has just admitted that there are other means of beating him. Her mind races with possibilities. She remembers what he had said to her in her apartment about her ancestor’s guardians:  
…I remain a guest in this world, confined by the magic cast upon me by my foes…  
Are they the ‘others’ he is referring to? If so, what did they do to trap him? They must have been skilled in very powerful magic if they found a way to contain Jareth against his will. Her pulse quickens as a glorious spark of hope ignites in her brain. If she could discover what magic they used, then perhaps she could learn it herself and employ their methods for her own salvation! The thought makes her giddy with excitement.   
Regrettably, it also makes her careless.   
“How did they do that?”  
Maybe it’s the rushed way she asks her question or the overly eager look that escapes her guarded face but whatever it is that one slip gives her away. She has tipped her hand to him and he can instantly see what she is about.   
There is a brief look of surprise that is immediately followed by knowing triumph. She quickly tries to think of a retraction but knows it’s futile when his lips part in a leering smile that makes her stomach plummet.   
“Who’s playing games now Sarah?”   
Something in his tone causes her heart to waver a beat or two.   
“Such a clever, clever girl,” his praise inspires anything but pride, “Goading me into divulging secrets; all the while trying to sniff out an advantage.” He pauses a moment to consider her with slit eyes. “Is that it my foolish love? Were your trying to root out a weakness, something which you could use against me?”   
Again that hideous grin.  
“Tell me Sarah,” his voice dropping to a serpentine hiss, “What would you do with such knowledge? Would you attempt to shear me of my power like the Philistine harlot did with the tresses of the Nazirite strongman?” He erupts with a choppy laugh; an ugly, humorless sound, that makes her skin crawl. It breaks off abruptly and gives her a heavy stare.   
“Do not think to play Delilah my precious thing. It will only end in your ruination.”   
Sarah’s face pales at his warning. Whatever hope she had of learning how to defeat him has fluttered away like a dried leaf on a crisp autumn breeze. The only thing that remains now is self preservation.   
“That’s not what I was doing.”   
Her declaration resounds with childish denial even as she hopes to convince him. But she can tell Jareth isn’t swayed.   
“Was it not?”   
She catches an odd flicker in his eyes and suspects something wicked is going on behind them.   
“Then pray do tell what you were doing.”   
The question catches her off guard. Clamoring for a response, she blurts out the first thought in her head.   
“I was just trying to get to know you better, that’s all.” She manages to keep her tone even while she forces herself to maintain eye contact. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows, but it is the best she has.   
“Is that all you were trying to do?” He doesn’t sound particularly convinced but the malevolence in his voice is waning – a little. It’s an encouraging sign.   
“I see,” he brings the tip of his finger to his chin to imitate contemplation. “Then it was merely innocent curiosity that guided you?” His words trail off, leaving his statement open for a response. Taking her cue, she gives him a little nod.   
He throws his head back with a loud bark and claps his hands together simultaneously. It nearly makes her jump out of her skin and she takes a step or two away from him.   
“How flattering!” Snide merriment laces his voice and reflects back at her through his two toned eyes. “So you wish to know me better? Very well Sarah,” he flourishes his right arm elaborately and dips low in a bow. “Allow me to introduce myself properly: I am the Goblin King, ruler of the Labyrinth and master of fallen things. I am the child thief, the seducer of innocents, the stealer of souls,” he crows, delightedly reciting his titles. “I am the creator of wishes and the despoiler of the sanctuous. I can weave such dreams that can rival any paradise imaginable and birth nightmares so hellish as to infect even the strongest mind with madness.”   
His gloating echoes throughout the chamber, reinforcing his terrible claims.   
“I have snatched newborns from their mother’s breast and suffocated them with their own swaddling cloths. I have laid my enemies low and crushed them under my heel like a hickory nut. I have cast down rulers, destroyed civilizations and slain gods!” Inhuman eyes drill into hers, trapping the breath in her lungs. Sharp features contort with vicious pleasure, making her skin crawl. His lips pull up into an unpleasant sneer. “I have done all these things Sarah, and more, because it pleased me to do so.”  
The dreadful rendition leaves her speechless, mouth agape and eyes wide in horror. His words – cold and callous – astound and offend her at the same time. She knew before that he was savage and ruthless but she wasn’t aware to what extent. She has no doubt that he is fully capable of doing all he boasts and more. An insuppressible shiver radiates through her body.   
Sarah’s voice returns to her, though it sounds far away to her ears.   
“How can you be so evil?”  
It slips out before she can weigh the consequence of what she said. She expects him to be insulted but is surprised when he appears to be elated instead. His face cracks with a diabolical grin.  
“Evil?” he mimics the word with a lilting falsetto, “You believe me evil?” He gives her a devious look before conceding, “Well perhaps I am evil by your lofty standards, but Sarah dear, I only come where I am welcome; to offer what assistance I may to those who request it. Would you condemn the emissary for the message?”   
He fakes a pained look. A toothy grin flashes out from behind tight lips.   
“And what of those who call upon me, those – like your brother – that implore me for my gifts; are they not also evil? Blinded by their greed and self-serving desires, they bring about their own woes, do they not?”  
His mention of her brother is like scratching open a scab and it sparks a dormant anger in her.  
“Only after you tempted him!” she hisses at him. “He would have never taken those wishes if he had known what would have happened!”   
He lets out a cruel laugh; the sound slaps against the chamber’s wall with almost physical force.  
“Do you truly believe that? Do you really think your sainted brother did not realize the cost of his wishes after he witnessed first hand their consequences?” He snorts in condescension. “I thought you were brighter than that Sarah.”   
His smugness scrapes at her nerves like a dull blade.   
“That’s not true!” she opposes in a choking voice, causing his brows to notch higher at her contradiction. “You’re a liar Jareth! You lied to him just like you lied to all the others! You make people think they’re getting what they want when in reality you’re just setting them up! You show up, with your damn crystals and warped promises, offering the world then you jerk the rug out from under their feet just to watch them fall!”   
Her revelations would shame a more reticent being, but not the Goblin King. He shrugs nonchalantly, unconcerned with her charges.  
“You give me far too much credit precious,” his words are inundated with boredom. “You imagine me as the hangman yet I merely provide them the rope, nothing more. They happily place their heads through the noose and shorten the length.”   
He smiles, an act that has nothing to do with joviality.   
“Do not waste your time lamenting those who would have their wishes at any cost, for they have none to blame but themselves. They know the price of their avarice yet they still beseech me, your brother is no exception.” He gives her a sly look which makes her skin bristle. “Or is your declaration meant to ease your own conscience? It was, after all, your own spoiled wish that set the course of these events.”   
His allegation stabs her in the heart.   
“I didn’t mean it!”  
Her denial does nothing to disrupt his prosecution.   
“So you didn’t mean it, did you? It was just a terrible slip of the tongue, a misunderstanding?” He screws his face up in an immature pout. “I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now,” he whines, impersonating her from long ago. “Those were the right words, weren’t they?”   
Then all playfulness rushes out of him and he looks at her accusingly.  
“Words have power precious thing, and one must take care when speaking them for you never know who might be listening.”   
The hairs on her arms stand on end with his dangerous warning.  
The Goblin King cocks his head to the side as if considering her from a different angle.  
“I find it perplexing that you would call me a villain yet it was you that offered up your baby brother, like a lamb for slaughter. You should be grateful to me for allowing you to redeem yourself otherwise you would have been the blaggard of this tale.”   
Sarah winces at his words as he watches her with pitiless enjoyment, taking pleasure from her torment.  
“It was your wish that brought me to you and your brother and your carelessness that let him call upon me years later.” He shakes his head and tsk’s. “Such a burden it must be to know that the source of all these woes that have befallen your brother and others traces back to you, the mother of all these tragedies.”  
His words wound her deeply; not in their crassness but the truth behind them. All the shame and guilt she has kept bottled up for all those years comes spilling out. Sarah swallows hard trying to dislodge the lump that has formed in the back of her throat. It was her fault, all of it. She invited the Goblin King into their lives with a careless wish she made in a fit of temper. Her mind cringes when she thinks of all the people her stupid wish affected. It ruined so many lives and brought others so much pain, especially Toby, the one person she never wanted to hurt. She never wanted him to pay for her mistake but he did along with other innocent bystanders.  
Sarah’s eyes prick with wet heat. She opens her mouth, attempting to find her voice again.  
“I didn’t mean it…..” she repeats weakly, trying to shield herself from his accusations.  
He gives her an unpleasant grin.   
“Oh you didn’t? Yet for all your denial, you spoke the words and you took them to your heart! It was your conviction, your faith that invoked me. Oh how fortunate for me that you foolishly stumbled into my realm, before age and disbelief had rendered me insubstantial! And how unfortunate for you to have gained my notice. Don’t you know, you silly child, that you should never draw the attention of an immortal?”  
Sarah is beginning to realize just that.  
“However it wasn’t merely your words that called out to me, Sarah” his voice dips to an intimately suggestive timbre, “Your spirit beckoned to me as assuredly as your words; your headstrong temperament, your reckless impulses, your selfish want,” he mouths the word as if he is sampling a fine wine, rolling it over his tongue to gather its taste. “We were made for each other Sarah, cut from the same cloth. We are both villains deep down inside.”   
There’s an undisguisable hunger in his eyes that causes her stomach to lurch. She becomes very aware of the flimsy bathrobe she has on and draws it tighter around her. Sarah slowly edges her way further down the table, nervously putting distance between her and her captor. The Goblin King watches her retreat, unconcerned with her discomfort, perhaps even excited by it.   
“I have waited centuries for a spirit like yours, so full of passion and vitality, and to find that incarnation residing in such a lovely vessel,” his lips curve in satisfaction and his voice deepens, “Words fail to express my…. delight. I had banished the notion of ever finding an acceptable companion until that night fate delivered you to me, by your own hand. And it was at your doing my precious thing, let there be no doubt about that. You can lie to yourself and blame me for all your misfortune but you know deep in your heart it was your own deeds that have brought you to where you are now.”  
His words crash down on her, threatening to crush her. “It’s true, it is all my fault” her mind blames her. Her heart sinks at the acknowledgement and she hangs her head in sorrow. If she didn’t make that stupid wish, she wouldn’t be trapped there, cursed to spend the rest of her days with him. What she wouldn’t do to take those words back, to save herself and everyone else from the pain and anguish (and death) she caused! She would give her life if she could spare those she affected by her juvenile mistake!   
“I already have,” she thinks bitterly to herself.  
It’s true. Perhaps not in the literal sense, but whatever life she had remaining, she surrendered to the Goblin King when she made that deal to save Toby. She bargained herself away to spare him. Surely that has to count for something. Maybe it doesn’t clear all of her debt, but it must right some of her wrongs.   
A revelation washes over her.  
She has done everything within her power to correct her mistake all those years ago. She realizes she can’t undo what she did (What’s said is said) but she has set to righting it. She’s taken responsibility for her actions and accepted the consequences. Whatever becomes of her, she was unswervingly committed to it. It’s a harsh penalty but one she was resigned to.   
The thought steels her will.   
She raises her eyes to his, her new courage giving her strength.   
“You’re right, I am to blame,” the admission smarts but not as much as she thought it would. “I was selfish and thoughtless, but I paid for it, and if this is my punishment for that, then so be it. I lived my life and if all I get was that then I accept it.”   
Jareth looks at her with amazement and something else (respect?) that seems foreign on his sharp features. Sarah experiences a sense of relief after her acknowledgment, her conscience feels lighter.   
“He won’t be able to use that against me again,” she thinks to herself. It feels good to take that weapon away from him. But Sarah wasn’t done, no, not yet, not by a long shot. Now it was time to turn that pointed sword on him.  
“But what about you? What mistakes did you make that landed you here?”  
Her question sets him back on his heels. Now it’s his turn to feel the sharp sting of self blame and regret.  
“You like pointing out everyone else’s faults but did you ever try looking at yourself? Did you ever think about what you did that got you stuck here, with nothing to do but waste centuries waiting for a foolish ‘self-absorbed child’ like me to come along?”  
An exhilarated rush comes with her cutting words. She hopes they hurt, prays that they hurt, consequences be damned. It feels good to give him a taste of his own medicine!   
Jareth stands there for a moment, silent and expressionless. Then he begins to laugh. It both frustrates and bewilders the hapless Sarah.  
“Oh, I have hardly been idle during your absence my precious fool!” he snickers, her words apparently having no effect on him. “I have entertained myself through the millennia, making what mischief I could, where I could.”   
A sneer thins his lips.   
“Why I recall an ancient king that once wished all he touched should turn to gold! Can you imagine Sarah dear, the short sightedness of such a wish?”   
The question is rhetorical so she gives no answer.   
“As you know, wishes can be such fickle things, much like their owners. Still, I gave him what he most earnestly yearned for yet when it came time to claim my payment he balked, sniveling that the cost was too high! He begged that I take back his wish and renounce my claim on his daughter, but what’s said is said. I gave him what his heart most desired and still he had no gratitude and denied me my price. I could have snapped him like a rotten branch and absconded with the child but instead I chose to be generous.”   
His eyes darken with cruelty.  
“So I let him live out his wish and learn the consequences of cheating a siabhra. True, he became the richest king in all the world but he starved in his golden palace, unable to eat even the meagerest of meals due to his foolishness. Bread turned to metal in his mouth and water into liquid gold. Through his own imprudence he had nothing but misery and alas, when the little princess flew into her father’s arms to hug away his sorrow, she too felt the bitter bite of his wish. My how all wept and mourned for the little golden princess! All, that is, except for the Goblin King.”   
He favors Sarah with a wicked little smirk.   
“After that, the broken king had quite enough of his wish,” he gives a careless flick of his hand, “He departed your world as a rather magnificent, albeit depressing, golden statue. He and his daughter,” – another evil grin – “now reside in my gardens, a warning to all about getting what you wish for.”  
He pauses for a moment of reflection before continuing on.  
“It seems for awhile I tendered in Kings for there was another, quite popular in Yehud, that petitioned me for my gifts. It was victories, not gold, that stirred his blood. That and a Hittite’s wife.”   
His lips smack together in a vulgar way that makes her cheeks blush.  
“My, he was glorious! He used his wish to gain power, wealth, lands! Imagine Sarah, a mere sheep herder became the father of a nation! He exceeded even my expectations.”   
Then he shakes his head with mock disappointment.   
“But regrettably, he too tried to renege on our bargain. For seven days he wept, and pleaded and fasted, he even prayed, all in an effort to default on his payment. He covered himself in dirt and ash and laid upon the ground but all for naught. In the end I took the babe.” He shrugs indifferently, “A small price for all I had given him. He would have other sons, one of which who was far too wise than to call upon me for my services.”  
His recollection done, he narrows his eyes in her direction. It is a predatory look and it causes her mouth to go dry.  
“So as you can see Sarah, I have managed to keep myself busy til your arrival. I have dealt in kings and paupers, sinners and priests, the old and the young. Every manner has come to me and I have had my diversion with all of them. But now that you’re here…..”  
He lets his words trail off as his eyes sweep over her with unfiltered greed. Her face blanches and she turns away from him, unable to bring herself to look at him any longer. She is suddenly dizzy, the lack of sleep and food finally catching up with her. The world tilts and she places her hands upon the table to steady herself. She stares down at a silver plate and cutlery. They fade in and out of focus.   
“Now that you’re here,” Jareth continues, heedless of her plight, “I have a new distraction. A very enticing, delectable distraction; one that I intend to sample thoroughly.”  
Sarah pinches her eyes closed, trying to shut out his words.   
“Oh, the beautiful games we shall play! Your secret desires, your unfulfilled longings, will all be revealed before me. I shall indulge you in every manner of passion and relish your gratification. In time, you will love me and beg for my attentions.”   
“NO!” Her brain shrieks madly, “I will NEVER love you!” She draws in a few labored breaths in an attempt to ward off her uprising queasiness. When her eyes open again, they settle on the knife by her right hand.  
“Never have I desired anything the way that I desire you precious thing,” his voice is deep and husky. “With you by my side, I shall want for nothing and bestow upon you everything. I shall show you pleasures you cannot even imagine, nurture every sensation –”  
Sarah cannot bear to hear any more. She has to make him stop. Without thinking, she picks up the knife and in one swift movement, hurls it at him.  
She has no time to aim, but the sharp blade cuts through the air toward the Goblin King with deadly accuracy. Jareth’s eyes widen in stunned disbelief, but he reacts immediately. His left hand shoots up, fingers splayed, to ward off the dangerous projectile. The knife halts in midair, inches from his chest. He waves his hand abruptly and the blade soars through the air, hits the wall and clangs to the floor.  
There is a blinding flash of light and Sarah’s hands are instantly bound together.  
Jareth gives the chain a brutal yank, jerking the temporarily disoriented Sarah toward him. She stumbles closer to him, unable to stay on her feet. She starts to fall but he is there to catch her. Iron hands drag her up against him roughly. She begins to swoon, eager for the relief of numb darkness. But he’s having none of that. He gives her a violent shake that rattles her eyes in their sockets. When he stops, it takes her a moment to focus them again.   
“It seems I have underestimated you. I did not believe you capable of that kind of viciousness. I shall have to be on my guard in the future.”  
His voice borders on amused but she sees a cruel ferocity gathering in his eyes.  
“Do not ever do that again, Sarah.” The almost amusement drains from his voice and he digs his fingers into her arms to emphasize his warning.  
Sarah stares up at him with emotionless eyes.   
“Or what Jareth?” her tone is as unemotional as her eyes. “You’ll lock me away in some dungeon? You’ll chain me up and beat me? Then do it. You’ve already trapped me here and assaulted me. So do what you like, I don’t care. You don’t scare me.”  
Eyes gleam evilly with her challenge.  
“Is that so, my brave fool? Then perhaps I should try a different tactic. Perhaps I should express my displeasure upon your brother?”  
The last of the color fades from her face.  
“Do not forget our bargain, my precious thing. You wouldn’t want me to construe your reluctance as a sign of you backing out of our agreement? That would be most unfortunate for young Toby.”  
Jareth knows by evoking her brother he has defeated her. Her insurgence is quelled at once. But not without one last act of defiance before her surrender.  
She channels all the hate and pain that she feels into her voice.   
“Go to hell Jareth.”  
He gives her a grin, full of sharp teeth and victory. Sinewy arms rope around her, pulling her tight against him. He grinds his hips into her, his buckle digging into her flesh.  
“Be careful Sarah. If you tempt the devil, he will come.”  
Her curses die unspoken when his lips come crashing down on hers. His right hand abandons her waist to weave its way into her hair and cups the back of her head. His tongue invades her mouth. Her first impulse is to bite down, to sever it from its owner. She resists the urge and he plunges his tongue deeper. It nearly chokes her, making breathing almost impossible. It’s not until she’s on the verge of passing out that he stops.  
He pulls back, leaving Sarah gasping and dazed. He leans her back a bit to stare into her face, a self satisfied look on his own.  
“Well! That was all quite exciting albeit useless,” he exclaims enthusiastically, all memory of her trying to kill him seemingly forgotten. “Now that we have gotten that unnecessary display of resistance out of the way, I should like to continue with the evening’s undertaking, if you don’t mind.” His pointed brows arch inquisitively, “Any objections?”  
Sarah just stares at him, mutely.   
Black amusement covers his face.  
“What? Have you no more tears for me, my dear Sarah?” his voice inflects fake concern. “No pleas for mercy, no plays on my sympathy?”  
His taunt deadens her heart but still flushes her cheeks with indignation.  
“You’ve gotten all the tears you’re going to get from me,” she proclaims fearlessly. Her eyes harden with resolve, “I’m done crying and begging so go ahead Jareth, do your worst cause when my time comes around I’m going to do my best.”  
His lips stretch across his face, his smile both devious and charming all at the same time.  
“I certainly hope so my love.”  
His mouth returns to hers as he sweeps her up into his arms. The movement startles her and she instinctively wants to fling herself away from him but a voice in her head stops her.  
“Don’t fight him!” her brain warns her, “If you do he’ll go back after Toby!” She forces her body to comply with her thoughts. “Just give him what he wants and everything will be fine. I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby………”  
She keeps repeating the mantra over and over in her head as he carries her to the bed. He lays her down on the soft mattress, breaking their kiss as he does so. Heavy eyes gaze down at her. Nimble fingers work out the knot tied at her waist. Once loosen, he parts the dressing gown, revealing her to his sight and touch. Its removal raises goosebumps on her flesh. Her hands (which had become free of their restraints somewhere between him scooping her up and now) automatically draw up to cover herself from his sight.   
He removes her hands away from her chest, skimming her breasts as he does so. She shivers, causing him to smile almost affectionately.  
“There, there precious thing, no need to be so modest.”  
His hand drifts to her collarbone and caresses the deep grove in her neck. It lingers there a moment before it travels down to the valley between her breasts. Deft fingers coax the front clasp open leaving her exposed to him. Her nipples peak in the cool air.  
Sarah has her eyes firmly closed now, trying to shut out what is happening to her. She tries to ignore his invasive touch and the shame that follows it. On the inside, Sarah is in hysterics. Her instincts are screaming at her to fight, run, get away from him! But she knows the price of such actions.  
She hears the clink of metal and dares to open one eye. She sees Jareth standing beside her, his shirt already off, undoing the buckle to his belt. She immediately turns her head in embarrassment.   
“I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby…..”  
Jareth chuckles as he slides next to her on the bed. She feels the heat of his body beside her and it causes hers to tense. Her heart starts beating wildly and her breath shortens.   
“Calm down Sarah,” he hisses in her ear as his tongue dances along its lobe. His fingers tickle the side of her throat exposed to him. “Calm down before you hyperventilate.”  
He starts to stroke her arm in an attempt to ease her. Feathered kisses are placed on the side of her face and down her neck. Her breathing begins to slow down.  
“That’s right Sarah,” he breathes against her skin, “Just relax. Let me soothe you. Give your body over to me. I believe you will find it most enjoyable.”  
Sarah clenches her jaw.  
“Never,” she whispers.   
She can feel him smile against her neck.  
“Is that so?”   
Jareth is undaunted by her rejection. He starts humming, softly, while his tongue traces the shell of her ear.   
“Are you sure about that my love? Are you absolutely certain about that?” his words reverberate in her ear and buzzes through her brain.   
Her body loosens, just a little.  
“Never? Never, never ever?” he croons at her. He looks deeply into her eyes. “And what if I do this?”   
His hand shoots up and palms her right breast. The suddenness of his movement causes her to cringe.   
“I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this – oh!”  
Her mouth opens in a gasp when Jareth flicks her nipple with his thumb then rubs over it in a circular pattern. His fingers begin to skillfully knead her flesh.   
“There now Sarah, doesn’t that feel good?”   
She moans because it does feel good.  
Jareth’s smile broadens at the response making his eyes crinkle. For a fleeting moment, Sarah can’t help but notice how handsome he is in spite of herself. There is something dangerously alluring in his features. It’s like the harsh beauty of a summer storm, glorious but devastating. His unearthly good looks have a disturbing affect on her.  
“See, what did I tell you? Just relax and enjoy yourself.”   
His voice pulses through her head and, much to her surprise, she finds herself doing just that. Her body relaxes and welcomes his touch.   
“That’s right Sarah, relax, enjoy,” his words slide over her mouth as his lips work around the edge of hers. A glorious warm tide flows through her body when his mouth covers hers. He licks at the seam of her mouth, coaxing her lips apart. She allows him entry and his tongue darts in. She matches him in equal measure and their tongues dodge about each other in a series of thrusts and parries.   
Jareth’s hand roams lower, grazing across her stomach, causing an excited shiver to run through her. It goes lower and lower until there is nothing but a small swatch of silk between them. He hovers there, just for a second, before his fingers slip beneath it and between her legs.  
Sarah gasps and throws her head back. Jareth lets out a soft laugh.  
“Yes, you are enjoying yourself.”   
His voice, sly and sultry, fills her mind making it harder for her to think. But then why should she? This is hardly the time for logical reasoning, especially when it feels so damn good –  
A jolt of pleasure rushes through her when Jareth’s fingers find their mark. It makes her groan and arch her back. A fire begins to burn in her belly. She is definitely aroused now.   
“That’s it my beauty, let me please you,” his lips are on the move, first pressing kisses along her collarbone before trailing down to the mound of her breast. “I shall show you pleasures unknown and delights unnumbered.....”  
Jareth’s voice rises and dips with each syllable. Is he singing? No, not quite singing, but there is a melody to his words. They filter in and twist around her brain igniting a hot longing.   
Yet amidst Sarah’s growing need, she feels a pang of unease.  
She doesn’t know where it comes from or why it’s there but she feels it all the same. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong, but what was it?  
Somewhere in the back of her brain a neuron fires.   
She has a sudden flash of her brother on the floor, squirming in pain then it winks out of existence.  
“Toby – ”   
Jareth barely pauses a moment at her utterance.  
“Hmm?” he rasps out between passes of his tongue. “What is it my precious thing?”  
It’s hard for her to concentrate with his lips and hands on her like that but she stubbornly holds on to her vague train of thought.  
“My brother –” she pants out, “–what have you done to my brother?”  
Jareth’s fingers stop in their mission. He raises his eyes to hers. There’s a secret look hiding in them.  
“Why nothing my dear,” he assures her in cunning voice.  
Her desire ebbing, confusion begins to set in.  
“You’ve hurt him,” her brows furrow, trying to make sense of the situation. She’s not sure why Jareth would hurt him but the thought has taken seed nonetheless. “You’ve done something to him –”  
“Nonsense precious,” he rebukes effortlessly, “I haven’t harmed a hair on his darling head.”  
Sarah scowls, trying to break through her muddled thoughts.  
“But Toby –”  
“Is safe and sound out of harm’s reach, I promise.” His tone is lilting and slightly hypnotic. His hand is in motion again, making tantalizing little swirls along her inner thigh. It re-lights the passion in her. Whatever it was that set her at unrest was fading.  
“You need not worry about your brother ever again,” his voice sounds oddly distant to her. “Since you gave yourself to me, you have my word that I shall never return for your brother. You believe me don’t you Sarah?”  
His eyes lock with hers. She could see herself drowning in them. The last of her uneasiness melts away.  
“ – yes.” She mutters weakly.  
An impish smile plays around the corners of his mouth as he lowers his lips to the swell of her breast. Her head falls back as he laps around her nipple sending delicious sensations through her.   
Sarah knots her fingers in his hair and pulls him up to her. Her mouth comes up to meet his, eagerly sucking at his lips. Now it’s her tongue that is trying to work its way to his. Jareth obliges and opens his mouth drawing her deeper into the kiss. The taste of him is exhilarating and her lips tingle from the contact. His scent cloys her mind and makes her head spin.   
Jareth breaks their kiss which causes Sarah to let out a disappointed cry until he starts again in the hollow of her neck. His tongue licks across her skin then there is an unexpected nip of teeth. Sarah is startled, but pleasingly so. She stretches her neck and presses his head in closer wanting more.   
Sensing her need, Jareth’s moves his hand up her thigh to her groin and slips a finger inside her.  
“Oh God, yes –” she moans, biting her lips to stop from screaming. Her fingers tangle in his hair tighter and she bucks against his palm. He slips another finger in and starts pumping them in and out. She’s whimpering now, unable to control herself. Her hand reaches out and digs into the soft bedding trying to anchor her better to receive his attentions. She spreads her legs wider and is rewarded by his thumb rubbing her clitoris, causing a rush of wetness that coats his fingers and slickens her entrance.   
“Sarah, my Sarah,” His voice is heated and causes her hair to cling to her skin. “You have no idea how long I have waited for you, how I have yearned for you –”   
He presses his member into her side as emphasis.   
Sarah groans in anticipation.   
“Tell me that you want me,” he murmurs, his lips and teeth skimming across the sensitive skin of her neck, “Tell me that you need me Sarah.”  
Sarah closes her eyes, relishing his touches, excitement coursing through her veins.  
“I want you Jareth,” she pants breathlessly, “I need you ……….” She tapers off as a tremble of electricity runs through her setting her nerves on fire. It’s true. She does want him, needs him to give her the release she aches for.  
“Tell me that you love me.” A hard note of insistence saturates his words. “Tell me that you love me and let our love last the whole night thru.”  
Sarah’s eyes snap open in apprehension. Dark persuasion plucks at her mind. She can feel his words pull at her brain. Panic starts to claw at her insides.  
“Sarah, tell me that you love me………”  
That’s all it takes to break his seduction and bring Sarah back to herself.   
Recent memories flood over her leaving horror in their wake. Her mouth goes dry and a cold sweat breaks out over her body. This was no tender lover vying for her affections. This was the Goblin King, the taker of lives and defiler of innocence. This was a living, walking nightmare.   
Her awareness roused, Sarah turns her face towards him, his silken hair tickling her nose.   
“Jareth,” she aims her words at his ear, “I hate you.”  
Jareth ceases his ministrations and jerks his head back. He stares at her, his eyes are dead and his face impassive.   
“What did you say Sarah?” he gives her a painful squeeze before withdrawing his hand from between her thighs. Sarah chokes back a cry and clamps her legs together tightly.  
“I hate you Jareth!” she grits out from behind clenched teeth.   
His lips peel back in a snarl. He slowly raises himself above her, placing his hands on both sides of her head.   
“My, my, my, such strength of will! It seems you are not receptive to my more subtle talents,” he gives her a rueful smile, “Pity.”  
He wipes some dislodged hair from her forehead. Sarah tries to ignore where those fingers were just moments before.   
“I was so hoping that we could both enjoy our first union, truly Sarah I did.” His pale chest heaves with a long sigh. “I wanted to make it as pleasurable for you as it would be for me, and it would be Sarah, that I promise you.”  
He pairs a devilish grin with a lewd wink.  
“You know, it’s not as bad as you suppose it to be,” his tone lingers between roguish and cajoling, “There’s no need for it to be…….unpleasant. You have no idea of what I can offer you. You can have anything you have ever dreamed of! I can give it to you. All you have to do is accept it, accept me, and you can have whatever your little heart wants.” He stares down at her, his irregular eyes glinting with desire, “Really Sarah, I ask for so little, just love me and I will give you everything! A throne, power, even your freedom,” His fingers glide down the side of her face and brushes over her chin, leaving a slippery film behind, “What say you Sarah?”   
She doesn’t even take a second to consider it.  
“No,” she answers dryly. She pulls her face away from his touch. “You’re insane if you think I will ever love you Goblin King. I may be stuck here with you but you’ll never get me to love you.”  
There is a momentary look of pain before it is chased away by derision.  
“Are you certain about that my love?”  
Sarah sets her jaw stubbornly.  
“Never.”  
Jareth shakes his head slowly in seeming regret. He drags his fingers down along the crest of her sternum, following them with his eyes.   
“Never,” he mimics her answer, sounding momentarily reflective. Then he shrugs. “What do I care? After all, what is never when we have an eternity together?”  
His eyes capture hers, all disappointment gone.   
“Alas, if I cannot bask in your love then I shall revel in your hate. They are but two sides of the same coin. ”  
Sarah knows what’s about to happen before it does but isn’t quick enough to prevent it. A sharp knee wedges between hers and is promptly followed by another (“That’s going to bruise,” she thinks absently). Her legs split with him nestled inside them. She feels the rip of her panties, her last protection. Startled, Sarah tries to dislodge him, rearing her hips and pounding against his chest with her fists. He catches her wrists and pins them above her head with little more effort one would take swatting away a gadfly. A moment later she is immobile beneath him, his weight pressing her to the bed. Sarah quits her struggles knowing at this point they are futile.   
“You know, I think I like you better this way,” his face is practically beaming with glee, “All fire and ice.”   
Then his tone turns prophetic, “The day will come Sarah when you shall love me.”  
She can feel his manhood poised at her opening, swollen and excited. In a moment, he will be inside her. She resigns to the inevitable and escapes in the knowledge that what she is about to go through isn’t for naught.  
“I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby –”  
In one swift movement, he enters her. Sarah’s breath catches in her throat, because it hurts –   
A shudder passes through Jareth’s body followed by a throaty chortle.  
“Because you will fear me, love me, do what I say,” his words catch with the rhythm of his motion, “And I look forward to that day most eagerly.”   
Sarah’s mind is screaming at her now, trying to block out what is happening to her.  
“I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this for Toby, I’m doing this – Toby this is ALL YOUR FAULT – ”  
He releases her wrists and captures her knees in the crease of his elbows and roughly hikes them forward. He plunges himself deeper within her. Now Sarah really does scream; a scream that shatters the soul.  
Jareth shifts his weight, and Sarah’s world comes tumbling down around her.  
.  
.  
PART 4  
.  
*Every sunset brings the promise of a new dawn.  
\- Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

Except dawn was still hours away in the Labyrinth but that doesn’t matter. A new day has already dawned for Sarah.   
Sarah lies awake on her side, her back towards the sleeping form beside her. She was mercifully able to get a few hours of sleep after the trials of the night were over but she is exhausted, her mind, spirit and body. Sarah folds her arms around herself and notices the blooms of purple and blue that adorns her wrists. Her inner thighs sting and she is sure similar bruises are there as well. Nor are they the only ones. Angry red welts blossom across her chest where his teeth marked her as his. In a few days they will fade to an ugly yellow.   
A tear trickles over the bridge of her nose and falls to her pillow. She is in mourning. Her life has changed, irrevocably, forever. All her goals and dreams have been torn way. She sees her future, bleak and hopeless, yawning before her. The life she made for herself is now in the past, her former self is gone.   
Sarah Williams is dead. All that remains is the Goblin Queen.   
Her grieving is cut short when she feels her bedmate stir behind her. Sarah quickly wipes away her tear before a stealthy arm slides under her and meets with its counterpart, locking her in an embrace. He pulls her tightly against his chest then lays his face alongside hers and nuzzles her like a cat.  
“Did I wake you my love?”   
Sarah says nothing. She has nothing left to say.  
Regardless of her silence, Jareth continues on.  
“You’ll have to forgive my rough conduct last night,” he clasps her hand in his and raises it, turning it delicately to examine her bruises before releasing it. “You must understand that my passion was uncontrollable. I had waited for you for so long and you are quite irresistible,” his hand journeys down along her side to rest on the rise of her hip, “I will be gentler next time.”  
Next time. She senses that ‘next time’ is imminent if the way he’s moving against her is any indication. Sarah wonders how many ‘next times’ she will have to endure before it will be her time. And her time will come, she swears it. A time when she won’t be helpless, when she will be in charge of her own destiny. The thought kindles an unbreakable resolve within her. She vows that she will learn and do what she must to prepare for when that time comes. Then, she will have the upper hand and he will be the powerless one.  
But she will have to wait.   
Right now, it is next time.


End file.
